As the plane came to a stop, she searched for something—anything—to say to help redirect her thoughts.
Elle tilted her head. "So why were you in Raleigh?" she asked.
He shrugged. "My brother lives there."
She waited.
"He had a job he wanted to run by me."
"You sound thrilled."
He lifted a shoulder. "It's not my thing."
"But you did it because..."
"He's family."
She thought there must be more behind Justin's simple response, but didn't know him enough to push. More, the fact that she wanted to know more about him made her back off.
"So he wants you to move out there to work with him, but you don't."
"I'm happy where I am," he said simply.
She didn't think before saying, "But you're just a handyman."
He quirked an eyebrow.
"I mean—"
"No, it's okay. Tell me what you really think. Don't hold back now."
She opened her mouth and closed it, then sat back with a huff. "Well excuse me."
"You've been judging me since you first laid eyes on me."
"I didn't judge you," she said. Liar. Of course she'd judged him. Like any good southern girl, she’d been brought up on judgment. Raised on smiling while saying criticisms beneath her breath. Even years away from her mother couldn’t end those habits.
"You're a snob," he said.
Elle opened and closed her mouth. "Am not," she returned.
"Are too." He laughed. "You think I care?" He shook his head. "I've wasted enough time caring what people like you think. I'm over it. And obviously, your priorities are working really well for you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He raised an eyebrow.
Damn those glasses, she thought.
"Your buddy up there, the one in the mile-high club, is he rich?"
“It’s rude to speak of it,” she said in a snooty voice. “But if you must know, yes."
He nodded, taking her words in stride.
“And he has a great car, a nice place, dresses like you want him to?"
She thought of Carter’s tailored suits, luxury SUV, and downtown apartment. "Yes, but what—"
"And look how that turned out for you."
Elle gasped. Hurt spread out over her chest. For a moment, she thought there might be regret in his eyes, but it slipped behind a cool gaze.
The speakers crackled to life. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have one more delay. Please stay seated.”
Someone called out, “Oh, come on!”
Elle turned back to Justin, barely noting the interruption, even though it would mean more time stuck next to him, which at this point was sounding worse than being next to Carter.
"You—you're nothing but a tattooed country boy,” she hissed. “You have no right to judge me, you hypocrite! So I want a man who comes from a good family, who’d like a big house with kids and dogs and the whole ten yards, and yes, dammit, can afford one. Maybe it’s not your dream, but it’s mine, and I don’t give a damn if you don’t approve.”
She took a deep breath.
“I don’t know how much longer I have to sit next to you, but I can tell you this: whenever I’m allowed off this stupid plane won’t be soon enough. This conversation—or whatever it was—is over.”
His gaze turned stormy before cooling to a calm, flat look.
“You got it, Princess.”
With that, he tipped his hat, closed his eyes, and crossed those big, tattooed arms over his chest.
Chapter 5
Elle cornered Carter once they were off the plane—a good forty-five minutes after they’d landed. The fact that she could have driven to Asheville from Raleigh in the same amount of time they’d flown—thanks to all of the delays—didn’t escape her. It was one more annoyance added to the top of a truly wretched day.
Justin hadn't spoken to her again. He'd even pulled down her bag in silence. Which was annoying for two reasons. First, he was well-mannered in a way that made her heart buzz. Second, it reminded her that Carter never helped her with her bag.
She'd made her bed, and now she had to make it look like something Martha Stewart had made up. Frilly shams and matching pillows included. She’d had enough time to reconsider her options while she sat, fuming, after her conversation with Justin.
Faults aside, Elle had decided that she needed Carter to go to Lucy's wedding with her. She’d break up with him, of course. But did that have to mean she couldn’t take him to the wedding?
Elle simply could not show up alone. Her mother would never let Elle hear the end of it. She would just have to suck up her feelings and act like Carter was her knight in tailored Lanvin.
But it didn't mean she wasn't still pissed at him.
"There should be a car waiting for us outside," she said to Carter now, her voice cool. They were walking through Asheville's tiny airport, following signs to the exit.
"Elle," he said. "We need to talk."
Elle turned on him, spinning her rolling bag behind her.
"Look, Carter. I am hanging on to a thread here. All I want right now is to get to the inn and forget this ever happened. Do you think you can do that? Do you think you can keep it in your pants for that long?"
Elle's eyebrow twitched like a possessed caterpillar.
"No," he said.
"No?"
Was she screeching? She was screeching.
"You know what?" she said. "I forgot. You don't get a say in this conversation. You gave up that right when you joined the mile-high club.”
She spun around, not waiting for him to follow her, and stalked off to an empty seat in the airport lobby. After the first delay, Elle had texted their inn to let them know she’d be late, and again after they landed. Both times, she received a polite text telling her it was no problem, and that their driver would pick them up outside the airport lobby. It was a small win in an otherwise crap day, but Elle would take it.
While she waited, she texted her closest friends, Theo and Isabelle. Of course, she first debated whether or not to share everything—privacy was ingrained in her as much as going to church on Sundays—but brushed her concerns aside. The girls had been there for each other during a lot of ups and downs since college. Besides, if she didn't tell someone she might explode. Or tear Carter apart with her freshly manicured fingers.
One or the other.
You'll never guess what happened ... she texted.
Tell us quick, Theo texted back. Boys are in the bath.
Isabelle sent an inquisitive panda sticker.
Elle's thumb flew over the screen as she typed. Carter screwed some stranger ON THE PLANE. They fell out of the bathroom and everyone saw.
She included a few horrified-face emoji for good measure. Just to cover the full gamut of emotions she'd experienced.
Who does that?! Isabelle texted. I don't even like to pee in those bathrooms! GROSS.
Theo used much stronger language, of course.
I hope you kicked him to the curb, she texted.
Do NOT tell me you're still with him.
The last was from Isabelle again.
I have to take him to the wedding, Elle texted. Caroline wouldn’t let me in the church without a date. And you know what else - I found a ring in his bag. A ring!!!
She waited.
There were no texts. No emoji. No stickers. It was the text version of a blank wall of silence.
She could practically feel their disappointment.
Don’t get your knickers in a knot. He hasn’t asked, and I haven’t said yes.
Still, nothing.
Elle sighed.
Fine. Be like that.
She tried to think of how to bring back the support of her two closest friends.
Y’all might like this,” she texted. I was re-seated next to …
She tapped to add a photo, but her finger hovered over "send." She studied the image. During their last f
orty-five minute delay, Justin had fallen asleep, or perhaps only closed his eyes, and she'd snapped a quick photo. Okay, yes. It was creepy and juvenile of her, but hey, she’d seen her boyfriend—almost-fiancé, really—with another woman wrapped around his private parts. She decided to cut herself a break. She wasn't going to see him again, and a small, stubborn, part of her didn't want to forget.
In the photo, Justin's baseball hat was pulled down low and his dark brown hair stuck out every which way. His flannel shirt was pulled tight, making his tattoos stand out like street signs. He'd left his glasses on, but they had slid down his nose.
Elle sighed.
The man looked hot, dangerous, and just nerdy enough to make her drool. She knew her friends would love it.
She hit send.
A second later her phone buzzed and dinged enough to make her laugh.
Carter gave her a look, which she pointedly ignored.
Omggggggg! Isabelle texted.
Who is that? Theo followed. He looks familiar …
Isabelle's texts came rapid-fire, filling the screen.
YUM
wannnnnt
He looks like James Bond's nerdy-yet-country friend who happens to like working with his hands. OMGGGGGG.
Is he single?
If not, does he have a brother?
Or a cousin?
Or maybe a really tall sister?
Elle grinned as she tried to keep up. Once she'd sated Isabelle's curiosity (no, she didn't know if he were single, yes, he was real), she told her friends she needed to go and exited the group text. She put away her phone, still smiling.
Two seats down, Carter huffed.
"We really need to talk about this," he said. "You can't just pretend it never happened."
Her happy bubble burst.
"I don't want to talk about this right now. We can talk about it ..." Never. Or at least not until after Lucy's wedding. "Tomorrow. Okay?"
She'd booked separate rooms, which would give her space she desperately needed. At the time it had seemed prudish, but now Elle was grateful for her deeply instilled sense of propriety. (Well, technically it was the fear of her mother finding out she’d shared a room with Carter, but still.) The idea of being enclosed in a small space with Carter made her eyebrow start twitching again.
Elle needed to get a hold of her temper if this was going to work. And Carter needed to stop being so damn aggravating.
"Fine," he said. Then, in a mumble, "It's not like we were exclusive."
Elle made a noise between a squeak and a scream.
"Not exclusive?” she said, trying to keep her voice low. "First off, we've been dating for six months! And there's not being exclusive and there's fucking a stranger on an airplane.”
The other travelers were looking. Everyone was looking. She never lost her poise like this, not in public.
Elle fanned herself.
"Carter didn't get the memo," Carter was saying.
"Do you think that's funny? Because it's not. Not even a little. And who talks about themselves in third person? Unless you're Bob Dole, you're not gonna get away with it. In fact, I don't even know if Bob Dole got away with it."
Carter ignored her. "If you'd asked for exclusivity, I wouldn't be here."
Elle's blood pressure rose. She was hot from her head to her toes.
"I cannot believe you!" she hissed.
Carter stepped back. Everyone nearby swiveled their heads to watch. It was the plane all over again. In fact, there was at least one person she recognized from their flight. The old man who'd caught her thong with his face waved his fingers at Elle. His wife smacked him on the arm.
She ignored the crowd and poked Carter in the chest.
"I can't believe I thought this could work." She punctuated each word with a poke. "You. Sorry. Excuse. For. A. Man."
"Keep it down," he said. "You're embarrassing me."
"Embarrassing you?" She laughed. "You know what, mister? You embarrass me every time we're out at a restaurant and you flirt with the waitress. Or when we walk down the street and you turn around to check someone out."
He reared back, blinking.
"God, I can’t believe I dealt with it. With you! I am such an idiot!"
"I don't need to put up with this," he said. "You should have told me how you felt. I assumed you didn't have a problem with it.”
"Why the hell would you think that?"
"You never told me otherwise."
Their audience leaned in a little closer at that.
"Oh!" She scrambled for a word that might be scathing enough for him. "You—you dirty, cheating, good-for-nothing egotistical asshat! I really thought you were a southern gentleman. But you’re not. Not even close. Besides, you like yourself far more than I ever could." She spun toward the door, then back. "You can find your own damn place to stay tonight. One that's up to your refined tastes. Might I suggest the local dump?"
A few people watching whistled. Someone said, "You tell 'im, honey!"
Elle huffed out of the airport, her chin held high.
Chapter 6
Justin picked up his truck from long-term parking and took his time warming up the engine. He was in no hurry to spend the next half hour with guests. Although he had to admit, after the day he'd had, the prospect of being home—finally—was getting more and more attractive by the minute.
Woodbine Valley—just the Valley to locals—was nestled between mountains. It was a small town with a population of less than five thousand, and far enough from Asheville’s tourist scene to have a distinct country charm. Even though it was quiet, the place had grown in popularity, and each year brought more families moving to the area. Justin had grown up in the valley, and after a decade away, he never wanted to leave again.
The pace was slow. Old guys knew him by name at the hardware shop, his favorite coffee spot knew his order, and he'd grown up with a number of the local business owners. Hell, he'd dated the mayor's daughter in high school. The man hated him then, and hated him now, but still.
As his truck rumbled to life, Justin's thoughts wandered to his last conversation with his brother. Rain began to patter against the windshield, and he flipped on the windshield wipers.
"Tell me you love it," Evan had said. All of the Tate brothers looked alike: tall, with dark hair that curled when it was long enough, and skin that held a tan.
Beyond that, the similarities ended.
While Evan wore a sharp suit and expensive haircut, Justin's jaw was shadowed, and his hair was long enough to curl up from beneath his beat up baseball hat.
Years ago they would have looked like twins. Now, Justin saw his past when he looked at his brother.
Justin had eyed the land his brother picked for his project, the job he wanted Justin to manage. "It's a nice spot of land," he had said.
"Close to the city, but not too close," Evan replied easily. "People are commuting farther and farther out now. It's a matter of time before someone else snatches this up. We buy it, build on it, and we're good for life."
Evan's plan was a good one. He had done his homework. He wanted to build a development targeted to young couples and families. The land would house small- to mid-sized homes interspersed with open spaces and trails. There would be playgrounds for the families with kids and community gathering areas. All nestled into the forested area just west of Raleigh.
The location was prime, within commuting distance of the city, but even closer to the tech and medical company campuses that were popping up like weeds.
It was a good plan. A risk, like all investments, but one Justin would have jumped on only a handful of years ago. It would mean big payoffs.
But that wasn't the problem.
"You have all the information," Evan had said, watching his brother. "You know it's solid. Tell me you're in."
Justin ran a hand over his chin. "It's a good plan, Ev. You've done great work here."
Evan grinned. "Yeah, I know."
"But I'm not int
erested."
Evan's smile fell.
"I'm not interested in this kind of project. Not anymore."
Evan let out an exasperated noise. "You taught me how to succeed in this business. Risk big. Take chances. Now you sound like Oliver."
Justin winced. Oliver, their younger brother, was a careful and cautious magazine editor in Seattle. Even more so since his wife passed away five years ago. They’d married young, and Oliver had never recovered. Ever since they lost Cho, Oliver had thrown himself into his work with an intensity bordering on obsession.
But Justin wasn't like Oliver.
Sure, he could lose himself in his work. But he wasn’t obsessive.
He'd put himself through college. Earned internships to get experience. After graduating he made a killing in real estate by joining with his best bud from college, Adam. But after six years of living fast and hard, everything had changed.
"I'm done with that life,” Justin said. "I don't need big payoffs to live the way I want to.”
Evan made an exasperated noise. "Of course you don't need the big payoffs. But you have to want it. You know we’re talking millions here, right?"
Justin hated to disappoint his brother.
"It's not about the money. You know how long I've wanted to buy the inn."
Evan swore under his breath. "You could buy ten of Oak Bramble if this pays out. Besides the inn isn't yours. It never was, never will be. The old man will die and leave it to some developer who will raze it to the ground."
Justin shook his head. "Not going to happen," he said. "I'm close to having enough for a down payment."
"Ah. Close?” Evan made a noise between a sigh and a groan. “I get it now. You’re here because you need money. You don't care about the job. Or this project.”
Justin took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. "You know I'm good for it."
He didn't want to beg. But he would.
"The inn is going nowhere,” Evan said. “I get wanting to help Mom, but that doesn't mean you have to chain yourself to the damn place."
"Oak Bramble is pulling in a profit. We're booked out until winter."
"You're living small, bro." Evan sighed. "You live like a freaking monk and work your ass off. For what?"
Love At First Ink: A Woodbine Valley Romance (Tate Family Book 1) Page 4
